Running on my usual route I listened to the rhythmic pounding of my feet, marveling at the mystery of it all.

I definitely have come a long way since my first attempts at running, I mused, as I was about to complete yet another twenty kilometers in the brisk winter air.

True, my body was hurting in places and it was not entirely thrilled with the distance, but my heart was bursting with joy. Actually, my whole being felt like an upward burning flame, alight with the powerful longing for inner progress and light that had started surging through me at about the seven kilometer mark.

With all the spiritual exercises that I performed on a regular - most of it even daily - basis (like singing, meditating, reading, giving classes), I was no stranger to that feeling. But it only ever turned intense like this while I was running.

Dearest Guru, how much stronger can this possibly get?!  I called out to my Master inwardly, as that sensation took completely hold of me. For the first time, I truly understood why the image of a flame is often used in meditation exercises. It was exactly what I felt that I had become (minus the heat, of course).

I also felt that my whole being was offering itself at Guru's feet. For Him to lead me from a little light to more light and abundant light. Maybe even to infinite light. Even though I still couldn't fathom this aspect of our reality.

I chuckled, remembering my teenage efforts to understand the vastness of the universe. It appeared that I had not made much progress on that front, yet.

Although that was not entirely true. Through my meditations, I had come to realize that it was not really a matter of mentally understanding, but of experiencing it as a reality. So far, I had only been able to get a few glimpses of what that truly meant. 

Still, I had had those, at least. And therefore knew where this was heading.

Anyway.

I was also aware of the fact that this burning, all encompassing sensation of mine was a sign of intense aspiration. Which is the most important quality to have, if one wants to make progress on the road to self-discovery. In my case, it made me feel that my inner being was spontaneously offering everything that it had and everything that it was, to the Divine.

In the meantime, and unbeknownst to me, my inner call must have reached Guru. Or rather: he must have had some understanding through his connection with me of what was going on.

Otherwise, what came next would have been too much of an coincident.

And I don't believe in coincidences.

You see: on our path, Guru used to give spiritual names to his disciples, as soon as their souls asked for it. Which they usually did, as soon as they saw that their outer beings were ready (which often expressed itself outwardly in the form of aspiration) to take true advantage of the opportunity.

What opportunity? You might ask.

Well, as a spiritual name is the outer embodiment of the qualities that the soul wants to primarily manifest, you can probably see how that would be helpful for a spiritual seeker. (Fortunately, it appears that the Supreme and its tiny fragments, the souls, don't believe in communism. Therefore, each soul is unique and has its very own qualities and mission that it tries to fulfill while in a human body here on earth.)

Of course, if someone is not ready to accept the qualities of his/her soul (which might happen, for instance, when the mind has a very strong idea/desire of what it feels its outer being should be like), the knowledge could possibly turn into a hindrance rather than an additional help on the path to realization. 

Due to the mind's reluctance and resistance that would invariably follow in such a case.

Which is why such a name was not easily given.

Therefore, as you can probably imagine, the longing to receive one had the potential to turn into a rather intense desire.

Which is a perfect opportunity to practice detachment. And patience.

In my case, I'd always done my best to banish the longing for a spiritual name, as soon as I had realized what this was all about.

After all, my goal had always (well, from the age of sixteen) been to be happy at every moment.

No matter what.

I no longer believed in the expectation that happiness would come automatically after having achieved/received something.

Because, first of all, if my hopes/desires would never be fulfilled, what then? Would I be doomed, in this case, to remain eternally unhappy?

And even assuming that I would, indeed, reach my goal. What about all the time before that happened? Would I not rather want to be happy during that time, as well?

Well, I would.

Which is why I did/do my best to concentrate very hard on remaining happy and detached (and patient *sighs*), when any kind of not easily fulfilled desire happened/happens to pop into my mind. Fortunately, I was/am quite successful in disciplining myself this way most of the time and I was consequently able to not give that matter much thought.

Of course, the concentration on being happy (or at least content), no matter what, also comes handy in other spheres of life.

Especially, if you happen to be married to a Sagittarius, who simply loves traveling and is able to arrange his life accordingly.

While I was enjoying my twenty-kilometer run – some parts of me more than others – Berni was spending some time in New York for his birthday. To visit Guru and to attend our Master's 'New Year Concert'.

Unfortunately, I had not been able to accompany him on his trip, because of work.

For a moment, a feeling of loss and of loneliness swept through me, as I climbed up the stairs to our apartment on the fourth floor.

Opening the wooden entrance door, I wondered how he was doing and how many days I would have to wait until he would be back.

I felt... incomplete.

Wondering why I was experiencing a sensation of emptiness, I sat down on a chair to ponder the matter. After I had removed my shoes and trudged into the kitchen to get a tall glass of water.

I feel empty, because I expect Berni to complete me, I realized. But if the only time I am complete is when I am in his company, then I am in for a rather unsatisfied life.

After all, even in the unlikely case that he spends the rest of his life by my side every day (which neither of us would be able to stand, by the way), we would still be apart most of the day while working.

On the other hand, if I managed to be complete by myself, I would still be able to enjoy his company, but my happiness would not depend on it.

Having gulped down the entire content of the glass in one go, I quickly filled it up a second time.

It appeared that I'd lost a lot of liquid during my run.

Why are we human beings so intent on finding partners? I mused, walking into the living room on slightly stiff legs.

Because we expect that our 'other half' will be exactly that: the piece that we need for being complete?

Meaning, that we expect someone else to make us happy. Which takes the responsibility for how we feel from our own shoulders and very neatly places it on those of someone else.

Now, if that someone else does the exact same thing... no wonder every third marriage gets divorced! (Which was the rate at that time. Nowadays, I think it's every second.)

Having drained the second glass, I was ready to take a shower.

But I, personally, really don't want to depend on anybody else for my fulfillment, I silently declared.

I want to be able to be complete in and by myself.

With this thought in mind, I focused on the sensation of being fulfilled and let go of the slight feeling of despondency that had assailed me only moments ago.

The next day, I was working in the shop as usual, when the phone rang.

"Sewa Radetzkystrasse, Grüss Gott," I formally greeted whoever was calling, having swiftly picked up the phone from itscradle at the cashier.

"Oh, hi Manu. It's me!" Berni was practically beaming through the receiver.

"Oh, hi Berni. What's up? How are you doing?" I happily responded. A quick glance around assured me that no customer was in immediate need of my assistance and that I would be able to talk for a few minutes.

"Great, I'm doing great. Oh, and we've received our names yesterday. I'm now called 'Dipavajan'.

"What?" That info had been thrown at me a bit too fast for my mind to process right away.

"Yes, Guru gave me the envelopes with our names yesterday evening, during the function. The day after my birthday."

"Oh, wow!" (I get very articulate when I'm taken by surprise like this.)

"But Guru instructed me to wait until after my morning meditation. And then I had to repeat it a hundred times, for it to sink in. I asked someone, how to pronounce it correctly. Apparently, it's 'Di-pa-va-dschan'."

"Dipavajan." I tested the foreign sounding name a few times, trying to commit it to memory.

"Oh, and I also wanted to have a look and tell you yours over the phone, but Guru must have read my thoughts when I received your envelope. He just looked at me intently and said: "But don't open it." Well, I'm very sorry, but now you have to wait until I'm back."

Would anybody reading this be very surprised when I told them that Be... uhm... Dipavajan did not sound sorry, at all?

"But that's still... four days!" I complained.

"Sorry! But on the bright side... now you will really look forward to seeing me again."

"Hey, that's not fair," I whined. But only half-heartedly. After all, it did make sense that I should be the first one to lay eyes on my own new name...

"See you then. I have to hurry to get ready for Guru's concert."

"Bye!" I don't think that Dipavajan still heard my greeting. But I didn't mind (not that I would have, under different circumstances. After all, I had had plenty of time to get used to that boy's insane drive...).

All the implications of that conversation racing through my mind, I barely noticed one of my colleagues approaching me.

"We got our names!" I blurted out without any preamble, when he came to stand in front of me and was about to open his mouth.

"You... what?"

Yeah, I knew that symptom: too much info, too fast.

"Berni – Dipavajan - and I have received our spiritual names! But I don't know mine, yet, because I have to wait until he's back and hands me my envelope..."

I had to repeat that information once more to my confused looking colleague. And elaborate. Although, being a disciple himself he did know what I was talking about. It just took a few moments to register.

A reaction that I became quite accustomed to over the next four days, as I gradually met all of our other friends.

When Dipavajan finally (!!) arrived four days later, he made a big show out of embracing and greeting me.

Of course, I wasn't having any of it: "Yes, it's very nice that you're back and all. But could you – please – hand me my envelope so that I can go meditating?"

"And here I thought you were happy to see me again after such a long time. You wound me. But, you know, on the plane, we boys decided that it is only fair that you also have to wait until after tomorrow's morning meditation. After all, that's what I had to do." (He had travelled together with some friends, one of which had accompanied him all the way to our apartment, because he was staying with us for the night. He appeared a bit bemused at our exchange.)

For a brief moment, I considered the thought. Would this be what Guru would want? But then I quickly discarded the idea. After all, I had waited long enough, was well rested and receptive (unlike the state Dipavajan had very likely been in after a long evening function) and therefore did not see any reason for any further delay.

Well, truth be told, the 'receptive' part was a bit debatable, since I was slightly nervous. Not to speak of impatient. But that was not going to change, anytime soon.

Therefore, I practically snapped the orange envelope out of Dipavajan's hands and quickly retreated into our bedroom to meditate.

After about an hour I decided that I had fought my curiosity long enough and proceeded to excitedly open the unsealed envelope that was adorned with one of Guru's simple bird drawings.

I gingerly extracted the heart-shaped piece of paper and eagerly scanned the small handwriting for my name.

There it was, right at the top: Apaga.

I can't say that I was too impressed with the sound of the word, even though it strangely reminded me of a name that I had once chosen for my character in a phantasy role playing game. In an effort to invent one that suited me, I had concentrated within, trying to keep my mind quiet and allow a sound to emerge from my inner depths. The first word that had popped into my mind had been 'Atma'. (Which, incidentally, means 'soul' in Bengali.)

But.

While slowly deciphering the meaning of my name, which Guru had written in his own, unique style, I got more and more excited. Every single word that I read was even more 'me'. Captured my essence even more than the previous one and added new depth.

Had you ask me beforehand what I thought that my soul's qualities would be, I would not have been able to say. Too many options. But now that Guru had presented them to me, it was so clear.

So obvious.

And so perfect.

It read: "Apaga: The aspiration-dedication heart-river, sleeplessly flowing towards the infinite ocean of Light and Delight, to love and serve the Supreme always in His own Way."

I repeated my name one hundred times, as instructed, before emerging from the bedroom.

With a smile on my face.

A new phase of my life had just begun.

For those of you who've got to know me over the course of the book 'The Hidden Path', as well as my two new ones: I think that you just might be able to recognize some of my character traits in those words... :)

As always: comment away and, maybe, even vote, if you enjoyed the story!